


Cracks in the Ice

by Copperton



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Bunny!POV, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Needs a Hug, Jack!POV, Team Bonding, because Bunny is an awesome ninja kangaroo-bunny, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:55:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copperton/pseuds/Copperton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch threw Jack into a cliff-side. Jack then fell twenty feet into a pit. Then he went and saved the belief of children everywhere. There is no way he finished his adventure uninjured.</p><p>I will update this as inspiration strikes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It hurts. Of course it hurts. Everything hurts, but Jack can’t do anything about it. He feels Baby Tooth in his pouch, shivering, only getting more and more chilled as she stays with him. His ribs don’t scream as much as groan pitifully when he moves.

He’d forgotten, it’s been so long since he has been hurt, how much pain comes from being thrown into something, especially if that something is a rough, jagged stone cliff-face. It hurts even more when you fall twenty or so feet to the bottom of that cliff.

Jack looks around. He is at the bottom of a deep crevice in the mountainside. There is no wind to fly him away, to carry him off like a snowflake, and with his staff broken he couldn’t fly anyway. He closes his eyes in defeat. They are going to die here and others will never know what happened to him or Baby Tooth. He feels the cold in a way he hasn’t felt in centuries and unconsciously curls up. His ribs and back whimper in protest, but he doesn’t care anymore. He will die here. Baby Tooth will die here.

Then he hears a voice. He knows that voice. He feels something give a pulse of _something_ in his hoodie pouch and looks down. Baby Tooth pushes out the tube with his baby teeth.

*

_Jack! I'm scared!_

_Believe in me._

_Hopscotch, like we play every day._

_Jack!_

*

He stops feeling cold that very moment. He actually feels an almost-burn in the cockles of his soul. He’s not sure what it means, but he is sure that if _does_ die, then he’s going to die trying.

Jack grabs the two pieces of his staff and pushes them together, hoping and wishing with his strength. Baby Tooth sits on his shoulder and offers small trills of support. The trills get softer and more comforting when his hoping fails.

The burn, determination, he realizes, grows into an inferno. He jams the ends of his staff together. He does not wish the two to bond this time. He is a Childhood Guardian, but he is not a child and wishing won’t work for him. He uses the sheer will and fire that comes from years upon years of living.

*

Jack faces the wall and looks up. It’s easily a twenty foot drop from the top, with rough edges jutting out. They will make good handholds, but he should probably avoid falling over again them at any cost. His various injuries agree and register their dissatisfaction with him once more. Jack ignores them, and sends a wave of iced air to numb them; to shut them up.

He nudges Baby Tooth into his collar, out of harm’s way. He has some difficulty managing his staff, but manages to catch it inside his hoodie so it slings across his back. It’s an awkward position; he’s not had to climb since he rose from the pond anyway and he’s just added a good eight pounds onto his back.

Jack reaches for the nearest handhold, a slim wrinkly ledge in the rock-face. Baby Tooth quivers from her seat on his left collarbone. He grips the wrinkle and _pulls_. Then he reaches out for the next one. He has eighteen feet until he’s to the top and then it’s only a short way to the bed-over-the-hole. Jack had fifteen feet to go. Now there are five.

There are two handholds left when he slips.

*

Jack doesn’t remember falling. He remembers slipping, how his shoulder ached and his fingers burned. He remembers Baby Tooth squealing. He remembers waking up. The shadows in the crevice are only marginally longer, most wouldn’t even have noticed, but Jack has spent centuries learning to tell time by the sun’s movement. His shoulder hurts worse than before. Now it’s more of a throbbing pain than an aching one. Jack looks at his fingers. They’re scraped and bloody.

He almost gives up, his fight spent. Then he remembers. He remembers the look on Tooth’s face when her feathers began to fall out. He remembers how proud North gave no thought into proclaiming Easter the more important holiday, just to boost everyone’s spirits. He remembers Bunny forgiving him for some of the freak freezes on Easter Sundays. He remembers Sandy.

He remembers the children he’s seen over the years and remembers Pitch’s plan: a world made of senseless fear.

Jack gets up again.

*

He takes the first handhold. _North needs me._ He pulls up to the second. _Bunny needs me._ He finds a third. _Tooth needs me._ He’s gone up ten feet. _Sandy would be disappointed if I didn’t try._ He’s gone fifteen. _Sophie needs me._ He has three feet to go. _Jamie needs me._ He has one handhold left. Jack stretches as far as he can, he stretches his fingers, he stretches his back, and he stretches every part of him until it hurts even the uninjured bits. A bit of wind swirls over the lip of the cliff. Jack nearly falls again, wobbles for a good ten seconds, but catches the handhold in the end.

*

Jack falls in a heap on the snow. He hurts. He hurts and he’s bleeding frozen blood, but he has work to do. He has work to do, so he drags his bones up from the ground. He wipes the blood away into the cool washcloth that is the snow. He calls for cold air to numb him, only staying away from Baby Tooth’s perch. He puts on a brave face and lets the wind carry him away.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack doesn’t hurt anymore. He’s up in the air, part of the glimmering comet that is the Sleigh. It’s cold up here. Tooth, North, Bunny, and Sandy don’t feel it, the magic of the Sleigh prevents them, and so they don’t think to tell Jack to climb aboard. At least, Jack hopes that’s why they don’t invite him. In any case, it’s cold and it keeps things nice and numb. He needs to get away soon though, wounds are wounds whether or not he feels them and they still need tending.

It’s not yet midnight in the part of the world the Sleigh’s in, but Jack is tired. He would like to leave now, to just let go of the Sleigh and let the wind guide him ‘home’, but North seems to want to take them all back to the Pole for a celebratory we’ve-won-well-done-us eggnog.

For now, though, he is content to just be and dangle off the handle of the Sleigh. Sandy is spreading his Dreamsand over the continents as they pass and he doesn’t seem to mind that Jack plays with the little golden Dreams as they pass him. North is guiding them back and he’s taking the long route.

Bunny sits as still as possible in the very center of the Sleigh. Jack feels sort of bad for the Sleigh-related pranks he’s pulled on his Pooka friend. A few frost-rabbits dancing at the bottom of the Sleigh calm Bunny a bit and make Tooth smile. Jack will deny that the frost-rabbits were a conscious creation if asked, but somehow he doubts he will be.

The Man in the Moon, Manny, glows with pride from his place in the sky.

*

The eggnog really is excellent. It’s the best Jack’s ever tasted, creamy and just the right kick. He suspects that there’s something alcoholic in it, but there’s not much if there is and he’s hardly a minor in any case.

Tooth and Sandy don’t seem to want to leave just yet. Jack wonders if they don’t plan on leaving tonight. He supposes they don’t actually have too. Sandy spread the Dreamsand all over the world, hastily, but done all the same; and the Teeth Fae can handle teeth collection for one day.

The numb is fading. He’s sitting, hands tucked into his pouch to hide the scrapes, as far from the fireplace as he can without being separate from the group, but it’s not far enough. Just being inside is warming him up. The numb is nearly gone, and his ribs have more energy to protest, to howl.

North and Sandy are nearest the flames, holding a booming and silent conversation about the elves tendency to drink Sandy’s eggnog.

Tooth looks very nearly asleep on the couch. She’s curled up tight on one couch cushion and yawning like a cat. Baby Tooth keeps guard from her queen’s shoulder. She glances over at Jack every few minutes or so. She sneezes every few minutes too. A pang of guilt shoots through Jack’s gut. He is the cause of her discomfort.

Bunny actually is asleep on his feet. He’s leaning on a fire-warmed beam closer to Jack than the others. Jack doesn’t blame the guy. They’ve all been awake for nearly three days now.

North looks over at Tooth suddenly, in the middle of a jaw-cracker. Jack can see it happen before North even opens his mouth. It can’t happen. He can’t stay. The Pole is red and gold and warm and he would love it here any other time, but he can’t stay.

*

“Well, everyone, has been lovely, but Bunny needs rest. After all, he grew five feet this night!” Bunny opens an eye and glares blearily at North.

“Hey, mate,” he says, “if anyone needs to sleep it’s Sandy. Fella’s been Formless for days now.” Sandy gives a small, sad smile and an unintelligible sand-thought.

“Ah, but of course you are right, my furry friend. Tooth, Sandy, your rooms have stayed same. Bunny, will you?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay. No use crashing in the Warren when there’s a perfectly good bed right here.” Tooth and Sandy are nodding and stretching. They are clearly used to North welcoming them into his home. North turns to Jack and smiles.

“Jack, I will find you,” North cuts off when Jack shakes his head.

“Thanks North, but I have work to do.” The other Guardians snap their gazes to him, confused.

“Jack,” says Tooth, “it’s late. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Jack feels a rush of some warm emotion, affection, he decides, and his aches throb a little less for a moment. Then the moment fades. As much as he wants to, he can’t stay.

“No, it can’t. Sorry, guys, but I don’t have any helpers to do my work for me. There’s too much detail.”

Sandy nods. Tooth gives a tired sigh and gestures her understanding. North looks troubled, but Jack can’t figure out why. Bunny says nothing, just stares at Jack curiously. They let him go.

*

It’s an hour later when the Guardians find out that maybe Jack oughtn’t to have left.

Baby Tooth has been moved, via North’s hands, from her queen’s shoulder. He places the small Fae on the mantle. She does not try to flap her wings and fly off. This confuses the elves to her sides, but they are easily distracted and Sandy has left his glass unattended again.

The Guardians, regardless of North’s invitation, are awake and speaking quietly around the fire.

“Why did Jack leave?”

The elves edge towards Sandy. Their movement pushes Baby Tooth along with the line. She gives an unhappy trill, but the elves just shush her and continue on. They’re so close…

“Eh, don’t worry about it, Tooth. He probably just got tired of us ‘hard work’ types. He’ll come ‘round again soon enough.”

“Bunny is right. Come now, do not worry. He will be fine.”

The elf to Baby Tooth’s left lunges at Sandy.

*

When the elf lunges, he pushes Baby Tooth over.

When he pushes Baby Tooth over, she tips over the edge of the mantle.

When she tips of the edge, she tries to fly.

When she tries to fly, she cannot.

When she cannot, she hits the ground.

When she hits the ground, she gives a shrill scream.

When she gives a shrill scream, Tooth wakes up completely.

*

“Baby Tooth! Oh, sweetie, are you alright?” The tiny Fae shakes her head and silently gestures to her right wing. A growl rumbles low in North’s chest. The elves shift nervously.

“Jingle!” for once the elves don’t jockey for the position of ‘Jingle’, “What did you do to the Baby Tooth Fairy?”

“I think it’s obvious, mate. They broke the little nipper’s wing!” Bunny glares at the offending elves, making them shift nervously from foot to foot.

The room which, only moments ago, was warm and comforting, just right for a friendly gathering, now feels nearly icy with fury. Gold sand whips in fearsome bands and waves, sharks and panthers darting in and out.

All the while Tooth holds her little helper close and hums quietly to her. Bunny almost pouts; it’s difficult to be angry while Tooth hums a lullaby in your ear. It takes a bit of doing, but the room settles down again.

North opens his out, to apologize, most likely, but a series of high squeaks stops him. It’s Baby Tooth. Tooth listens quietly and then freezes.

“Hold up. Start from the tunnels.”

It’s moments like these in which the non-fairy Guardians wish they’d taken Tooth up on her offer to teach them to speak her language. Tooth and Baby Tooth sit curled up in one of North’s reddish, overstuffed armchairs. They’re clasping fingers and trilling and squeaking and humming back and forth at frightening speeds.

North sits awkwardly on a spindly stool, hunched up and smallish, like a scolded schoolboy. Sandy is bobbing gently near a window, holding a silent conversation with Manny. Bunny paces.

The three play the thumb-twiddling game for what seems like ages. Then, in a flurry of shimmering feathers, Tooth reacts in a distinctly non-avian way. She snaps her head towards the resident Pooka. Her face is a blotchy mix of worry-pale and angry-red.

“Bunny, how fast can you find Jack?” Instantly, the room stills. Tooth hasn’t sound this nervous, not afraid, for decades.

“How fast do you need him?”

“As fast as you can get him, Bunny. He’s hurt.”

*

Bunnymund dashes through his tunnels faster than even eagles can see. He’s somewhere below New York, no, Pennsylvania, no, Virginia, no... He stops keeping track. It’s easier that way. He’s not actually navigating by map anyway. He’s using one of his tracking tricks to follow Jack’s particular aura. It’s not easy and it’s not fun and he’d rather not do this again for a few decades or so, but Tooth has asked him to try.

Five seconds and ten-thousand miles later, Bunny pops out of the ground in the middle of… Burgess… The town they left not three hours ago…

Bunny shakes his head, one quick jerk, and starts sneaking stealthily around the darkened streets. That’s how he works. He stays on the outskirts, on the very edge of reality and the corners of childish eyes. The Easter Bunny is not quite real, but at the same time, he cannot be written off as a fable.

Bunny-rabbits are not normally associated with hunting, outside of being the prey, but Bunny is special. He is the last of his kind. He can hunt better than almost anyone or anything and, right now, he’s hunting down Jack.

 From what little Tooth has managed to tell him through her panicky worrying, the winter sprite has gone and done some foolish-foolish-foolish things tonight. Jack’s gone and injured himself somehow and now he’s slunk off to lick those wounds and save face. Well, that little bugger is gonna get the surprise of his life. He’s a Guardian now and Guardians protect their own.

*

Bunny finds himself in a park. He finds this incredibly odd, because, honestly, what kind of Immortal hides in a park?

It’s a fairly nice, if old, park, all told. There’s a swing set near the old benches that mothers sit on during the day. It’s red. A couple of see-saws creak in the wind. The sky is clear and the night is warm. The night is warm. There is no frost on the ground. Bunny looks around, startled. There’s no frost and jack specifically left to lay down frost. There’s no…

Actually, there is a bit of frost. Just outside a big yellow tunnel opposite the see-saws is a pool of frost. It spider-webs over the dark earth, bleeds mist into the pre-dawn air. The pool itself ebbs and flows, like an ocean wave, like a breath.

Bunny takes a single step out of the shadows. The pool ebbs. He takes a louder one. The pool flows. He wonders if Jack is playing a prank. The pool ebbs. No wet, slushy surprises hit him. The pool flows. He stands perfectly still. The pool ebbs.

He bites his lip, but rushes forward, trick be damned. Tooth wants him found. North and Sandy do too. Bunny isn’t sure yet what he wants, but he’s a team player and he’ll do as they want this time.

It takes him all of a second to reach the tunnel. He looks inside, still waiting for the joke. He doesn’t find one.

What he does find is Jack. He finds Jack, but his fellow Guardian looks… bad. Jack’s skin, already pale as snow, has gained the sickly look of half-melted ice. His hoodie is shifted to one side and Bunny gets a good view of a blackish-bluish-reddish splotchy mess of a bruise on his right shoulder. It’s like he threw himself that way while falling, like he was shielding his left side for some reason. The teen is shaking. He shouldn’t be shaking. He can’t be cold. He is the cold.

Jack’s fingers are a scraped-up mess, and they mark Bunny’s breaking point.

Jack gives a mumble when the Pooka pulls him out of the tunnel. Bunny slides an arm under Jack’s knees and another near his shoulders and picks the sprite up. He’s surprisingly light. He’s so light that a stiff breeze might… right. Never mind. Bunny walks quietly back to the safety of the shadows and thump!s his foot twice on the ground to call for a tunnel. Jack groans a bit when they jump into it.

“Hush now. C’mon, Jack. Let’s get you back to North’s. We’ll fix you right up.” Says Bunny, as he darts through the tunnel, as quick and smooth as he can manage, back to the Pole.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing that Tooth says when Bunny resurfaces with Jack is, “Thank God! You found him!” and, “Careful! Baby Tooth says his shoulder’s hurt pretty bad...”

Bunny is careful, really he is, but Tooth still nervously hisses every time he jars Jack on his way across the sitting room to where North has a team of elf-doctors and elf-nurses set up. Honestly, they look rather silly in their jingly, pointed hats and Pepto-Bismol colored scrubs.

Sandy hovers anxiously over Bunny’s shoulder and Bunny wishes he wouldn’t because it’s distracting and Bunny does not need distracting. He needs answers.

*

Tooth tells him, after a short silence, once he’s put Jack on a couch.

“He nearly died.” She actually starts her story out with that. Bunny thinks she either has something more upsetting to say or she is so worried that she’s not thinking of Bunny’s mental health.

“Oh?” Even so, he has no comebacks for that.

She nods frantically. She looks even more like a hummingbird when she does that. An elf jumps a little and Bunny’s ears twitch towards the jingle-jingle. North gives a gruff huff, but Bunny tunes him out.

“Yes.” She really has no regard for Bunny’s health. “Baby Tooth told me that Pitch threw him down into a pit somehow.”

“Somehow…”

“Yes, well, she was a bit fuzzy on the details. Pitch threw her first.”

“This just gets better and better.”

Tooth is quiet for a moment.

“You know the worst thing, Bunny?” she asks. She sounds defeated in a way he’s never heard before, not even when her belief-center was threatened.

“Tell me.” He’s sure he won’t like her answer. He’s right.

“He fell into a pit, climbed out of it, fought Pitch, got tossed of the sky, saved those children, and we…” she pauses, “We didn’t ask if he was okay. We didn’t even think of it, not until Baby Tooth…”

*

North gruff-huffs so loudly that Bunny cannot ignore him.

The elves have figured out that jerking Jack’s arms not only hurts the sprite, but is also an ineffectual method of removing his shirt. So, naturally, they pull out a pair of heavy shears and snip-snip through the fabric instead.

Jack’s torso is a low-grade horror story. It’s black and blue and full of bloody and scabbed over scrapes. There’s one stretching from breastbone to hip, a reddish brown hash. He fell down a cliff-face. A set of purple smudges spans his entire back, like a mockery of North’s prized map of constellations. He was thrown up against a stone wall.

Jack’s legs are swollen and sliced. Bunny thinks that might be from when Pitch knocked Jack out of the sky.

The bruise on his right shoulder looks worse in proper lighting. There are scratches running through it that he couldn’t see in the tunnels, either of them.

He threw himself onto that shoulder. Judging by the erratic splay, he did it unconsciously. Bunny sneaks a look at Baby Tooth and thinks he might know why Jack would do that.

Jack doesn’t look like he’s melting anymore, which is definitely a good thing, a great thing. Now he just looks a tad clammy, which is not a great thing, but a better thing than it was.

*

The elves, after that kerfuffle with Jack’s shirt, turn out to be quite competent. They use dolly stuffing, bits of kite string, and wished-up medical items to patch up the newest Guardian.

Three fingers on his left hand are broken, the pointer, ring, and pinkie. Baby Tooth, sitting in North’s beard, trills loudly.

“He fell.” Tooth says, “She says he was about…” she does some quick calculations, translating fae measurements to normal ones, “eighteen feet up when he slipped.” More trills come. “He blacked out for about ten minutes after he hit.”

Jack is lucky; he only has one cracked rib. The rest are bruised in some fashion. None of the Guardians need further explanation on those.

The bruise on his shoulder, the one that likely saved Baby Tooth’s life, goes all the way through the muscle and into the bone itself.

*

Sandy is the first to pick up a washcloth and wet it down, but the others are not far behind him. Together they clear their new friend’s skin of the caked blood that he’s somehow hidden from them, the rusty muck on his flesh giving way to ashy snow.

*

He’s not cold, the bad, soul-deep cold, anymore. It’s dark, though, and that’s almost as bad. He fears the dark. He fears it so much it’s almost hatred. It was dark during his rebirth. The Moon came to retrieve him then. Where is the Moon now? Shouldn’t he be somewhere near?

He cannot move. This should frighten him more than it does, but mobility does him little good without sight and he still can’t see.

He takes a breath. Then he pauses. He can breathe. He’s not underwater. That puts him in a better position now than he was in the last time he became not-cold-can’t-see-can’t-move.

He slips back into the warm shadows before he can form another thought.

*

Cringle, the head elf-doctor, brings out rolls of white bandages. Bunny and North gently, ever so gently, lift Jack into a semi-upright position. Even as careful as they are, they feel Jack trembling in his sleep.

Two elves take a roll and wrap Jack’s fingers until they’re fat as sausages. He will not be able to bend them when he wakes. He won’t like that, Bunny thinks.

They help as much as they can, what little they can, while Cringle wrap-wrap-wrap-wraps the crisp strips around Jack’s chest so that his ribs will be protected and held properly.

*

He smells something. He can’t figure it out at first; it’s almost like trying to smell through clothing. Granted, the ‘clothing’ has no scent, but the sentiment remains. The smell is sort of like, well, it’s something happy. It’s sharp and sweet. It’s deep and bright. It’s familiar.

Peppermint and sugar cookies, that’s what he smells. Peppermint and sugar cookies, a nice smell, but he can’t quite place it.

*

Bunny can’t bear to look, but he cannot bear to turn away, so he holds a silent vigil.

Jack is now laid up on a bed in a guest room in North’s. Tooth is nearly in the corner, giving great shuddering breaths. North’s eyebrows are doing some sort of grumpy-guilty-sad dance up in his hairline. Sandy doesn’t look remotely tired. Baby Tooth is curled up on a fae-sized bed that’s been rigged into a sort of litter. The elves apparently still feel guilty about the mantle incident.

It’s been a long night.

*

His fingers are the warmest bit of him now. They’re thick, as if someone has wrapped them in several pairs of mittens. Jack’s nose is the coldest bit of him. He bets that it’s got that weird icy-nose reddish-pink tint. His elbows are jutting out at odd angles, but they’re comfortable anyway. He seems to be lying on a cloud. The cloud could also be a marshmallow; he’s not sure yet which one’s softer.

He’s tired.

*

He’s tired. Bunny knows that the others are too, but, even when North’s jaw snaps and pops in protest of one of his massive yawns, he can’t bring himself to suggest they all turn in for the night.

Instead, he pulls out a wooden egg. There’s no point in painting a real one; Easter is a full year away. He gives it a layer of powder-blue paint before he even registers that he’s painting. Bunny doesn’t fight his instincts when they tell him to paint a snowflake pattern on the broad middle of the egg.

*

Jack’s drifting thoughts halt for a moment. He distinctly recalls passing o- falling asleep in a kiddie play-tunnel in Lake Park. There are no beds made of cloud in Lake Park. He knows. He’s looked.

Then he can see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chappie fought me.


End file.
